


Pronoun. Abstract Noun. Pronoun. (Three Little Words)

by Regionalpancake



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Cris will one day catch a break but it's not today, Dadmiral Picard, F/F, Fluff, Found Family, Love Confessions, Poker Night, The lightest hints of past angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regionalpancake/pseuds/Regionalpancake
Summary: “I love you” can be a difficult thing to say; but for an xB it’s even harder.
Relationships: Raffi Musiker & Cristóbal Rios, Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine
Comments: 22
Kudos: 105





	Pronoun. Abstract Noun. Pronoun. (Three Little Words)

It had been a long, luxurious evening of good food and great company. The crew of La Sirena was winding down after another job well done.

“...and then the matrix _destabilised_!” Came the punchline of Jurati’s rambling anecdote.

Seven hadn’t really been listening, instead she sat back and let the feeling of comfort and family, that had grown over the last few months, wash over her. She’d been reluctant at first but joining this crew, getting to know this odd group of miss-fits, had been the best decision she’d made in a long time.

Rios’ cigar smoke hung over the table and Picard chuckled good naturedly at Elnor’s latest misunderstanding.

“No, you see the lying is a fundamental part of Poker, Elnor.” The former admiral’s tone warm and fatherly.

“I don’t understand how that can be enjoyable?” Elnor questioned, looking between the Captain and Raffi, the only two left in the game.

“The skill is in the deception.” Raffi smiled, she touched her glass, then thought better of it. “In making your opponent believe what you want them to believe about your hand.”

“Or...you just have my luck.” Rios smirked.

“Raise.” he said kicking off his boots and adding them to the pile of junk in center of the table.

Seven took a sip of bourbon and let her fingers interlace with the OPS officer’s. Her eyes glancing over Raffi’s cards. It wasn’t looking good. Raffi gave Seven’s hand a gentle squeeze. Without looking up she instinctively pressed her cards against her chest as Elnor paused in the act of half standing, trying to peer at her hand.

Picard pulled him down by the sleeve. Elnor obeyed with small grumble.

“But how am I supposed to learn…“

Raffi dipped her head to gently kiss the back of the Seven’s hand, where it laid cradled in her own. She lingered just a fraction longer than she maybe should given they were in company. It was getting late and the wine lapped insistently at the edges of her inhibitions. Eventually she returned her attention reluctantly to the cards, it really wasn’t a great hand.

“Call.” She flicked in a bottle cap. “That’s my holosuite hour”

“My boots are worth more than an hour, try twenty.”

“Three.”

“Three is an insult to these fine...”

“...worn.” Raffi interrupted.

“Leather boots.”

“‘Honey,” she glanced at the battered, well loved shoes “‘boots’ might be an overly generous description at this point? But out of kindness I’ll call it five.”

“Ten or you have to add something else.”

She tossed her disused horgl in.

“Hmm,” Rios scratched his beard thoughtfully, the faintest smile touching the edge of his mouth. “Fine.”

Raffi turned over her hand, it was only marginally less awful than Rios’.

“Yes!” She hissed, punching the air. “Now, out of respect to the humiliated captain’s wallet, I’m calling it a night.” She stood and tugged on Seven’s hand. “Come on, you. I’m not letting you stay up all night again.”

Seven looked at Raffi’s tired smile and a warmth spread through her chest. She emptied her glass placing it down on the table and nodding a goodnight to Picard and the others.

“And these...are mine!” Raffi said plucking Rios’ discarded boots from the table.

“No! Raffi, you’re kidding me!”

“Bet’s a bet.” Raffi laughed scooping bottle caps, scraps of paper and a horgle into one of the boots. “And I’m collecting.”

She frowned and picked the horgl back out of the boot and tossed it to him.

“Here, have a consolation prize. Maybe I’ll understand you better now I can walk a mile in your shoes?”

“Why would she?” Elnor chimed in, looking to Picard.

He just smiled and dismissed the question with a wave, “Another time, Elnor.”

The two women made their way up the metal stairs to the upper decks, boots swinging lazily from Raffi's free hand.

* * *

Their relationship had gone unnoticed by the crew at first and then later, while not unnoticed, unremarked upon. Becoming part of everyday life aboard the La Sirena.

Only a few months ago this all would have seemed unimaginable.

On their route to Raffi’s quarters, Seven mused on the home she had found. It wasn’t just this place and this crew that made her feel so grounded, it was Raffi’s hand in hers and those beautiful, dependable, understanding brown eyes, which met her own as they walked. Raffi caught in the act of sneaking glances at Seven’s face, even as she rambled on about her boot based plans.

“OK, so how can I best rub it in that I won Cris’ shoes? Frame them? Too basic...” Raffi muttered.

“Ooh! Use them as a door stop in engineering?” She was laughing, giddy, eyes meeting and catching once more. “Babe, I need ideas, and I gotta say you’re letting the side down.”

“The 2 of diamonds has a 37 micron scratch in the upper left corner.” Seven replied.

“Huh?”

“It’s how you won the game, the scratch on Rios’ 2 of diamonds.”

Raffi raised her eyebrows.

“Nope, it’s ‘cos Rios scratches his beard when he’s worried. He thinks it makes him look all suave and confident, but a tells a tell, he should know better by now.”

Back in Raffi’s quarters, which had become their shared room, though nothing had actually been said about it, Raffi placed the treasure filled boots on the bulkhead next to the window. The metal islets catching the cool light from stars speeding past.

“So.” Raffi spread out her hands like a magician beginning a show.

“Day one, I mention the boots in passing. Just casually, but enough to remind him of his loss.” She sat down and started taking off her own shoes.

“Day two... I say nothing, make him think I’m not that interested anymore. But it’s a ploy, a set up for day three which is when I _wear_ the boots.”

“Your feet are 4 sizes smaller, it would be inefficient.”

“It would be hilarious!” Raffi retorted.

“Oooh what about if I start playing that ball game round him, wearing his boots. What if I use one of his boots as the ball?”

Her own shoes kicked off she padded over to Seven.

“Seven, you’re really missing out on the speculative fun here.” She wrapped her hands around the xBs waist from behind.

“It’s either this or try and figure out what the hell Jurati’s joke was supposed to mean.” She leaned her face into Seven’s shoulder, sighing.

She kissed the blonde’s neck, lingering on the soft skin behind her ear.

“Or . . . we could find something else to do?”

She paused mid thought.

“Seven?”

No answer.

“Honey, are you OK?” Raffi said softly, a hint of concern edging into her voice.

This.

This...whatever it was between them, this thing that seemed as easy as breathing and just as essential.

Seven remembered the struggle to find someone. She remembered giving up. Now, long after she had given up any hope, this woman walks into her life. Just the feeling of those arms around her waist enough to make her melt. Seven wants to speak, to put this feeling into words, with a sudden urge that hits her out of nowhere. The words cloy on her tongue and she falters.

Hesitantly she manages to clear in her throat.

“Raffi.” Her voice is low, cautious, like a the voice of a thief mumbling the combination to a locked safe “I...”

She pauses again for a moment, breath catching.

“I” was a difficult word for an xB.

A single letter.

A single syllable.

That tiny marker of individuality; but one that contained so much meaning. For half of her life Seven had been “We”, part of the collective, with no isolated self to address at all. Even during her time on Voyager, expressing her individuality had been...difficult. And then with the Rangers she feared (secretly and only to herself) that she was just seeking to be part of a group again.

'I' meant more to Seven than to most people. It wasn’t just the opening of a sentence, it was an affirmation of herself, to herself, of what she’d worked toward for so many years.

“Did you say something, honey?” Raffi smiled, head cocked, listening.

“Raffi, I think.” Seven paused and quirked her eyebrow, dismissing the doubt.

“Sorry, no, I know. Raffi,” she said, turning to face the older woman.

Seven took a moment to take in Raffi’s features, her eyes and lips that had seen so much sadness and yet were still softly, beautifully marked by laughter, by joy. “I love…”

The feeling in her chest was new; warm and comforting. When she was around Raffi everything felt calm, felt safe. Emotions hadn’t always come easily to Seven. The teenage years where she should have been falling in and out of love; rehearsing infatuation and heartbreak, those years were stolen; spent in a maturation tank as a growing drone.

Even since her emotional inhibitor was removed there had been a numbness, a trauma-like scar tissue, tight and tender, surrounding an empty place where those emotions should be. She’d been in and out of what she thought might have been love, with Chakotay, with Bjayzl, but nothing compared to this.

The acceptance.

The clarity.

The overwhelming certainty.

Raffi had known so much pain and suffering and loss and still was so, so kind. Her heart on her sleeve. Ready to give and give and _give,_ hoping it might finally stop the hurt or maybe distract from it at best.

She was broken. And she was imperfect. And she was her’s.

“I love you.” She finally whispered.

Seven’s stomach felt like ice, her usual confidence swept away. “I don’t expect you reciprocate, but I felt like you should know.”

Her blue eyes met Raffi’s and her breath caught in her chest for a second as she watched Raffi’s face soften into a smile. Raffi stepped forward, closing the short distance between them, taking Seven’s face in her hands and bringing their lips together in a tender kiss.

Seven let out a sigh, smiling into Raffi’s lips, letting go of a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and wrapping her arms around Raffi’s waist to pull her closer still.

Raffi tenderly grazed her thumb across the soft skin and dull metal of Seven’s cheek. Her eyes searching Seven’s. They were filled with emotions that Raffi thought she’d long since seen the last of.

“Oh, Honey.” She breathed. “I love you too.”

* * *

Cris stopped outside the door, knuckles raised before dropping his hand.

“Good for you, Raffi.” He thought, smiling.

He could try and barter for his boots back another time.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Doors to crew quarters are exactly as sound proof as the narrative requires and this is a fact :p


End file.
